Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
Midnight is coming. So is he. Red light spills from the glass shelf. Candles, not for romance, but for control. For power. My mirror shows a woman in black. Tight dress, sharp collar, eyes lined with kohl. My hair is dark as the silence between commands.
His name is Daniel. He’s been mine for nearly a year. Polite. Obedient. Shakes when I raise my voice. I like that. Tonight isn’t about punishment. It’s about passage. A new year. A fresh leash.
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Miss Anna came home after a long day of frolicking around. She marched in her heels towards the kitchen and went to the fridge. There sat her favorite egg nog. She reached to pour a glass, but there was barely enough to fill an ounce. She was livid.
Continue reading “The Chronicles of Miss Anna and her Panty Slut Pt. 11”
Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457
It was just a typical Titty Tuesday when my phone rang. “Rachel, can we do a video cam call on teams?” he asked me in a very meek voice. I told him that I would love to. But I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When he took off his pants, I needed a magnifying glass to see it. It was the most itty bitty, tiniest penis I have ever seen in my life. I told him that it couldn’t even really be classified as a penis. That thing was way closer to a clitoris. So I told him that from now on, he’s going to refer to it as his clit. I also told him that from now on he should wear panties and learn how to have sex like a girl. So I made him go get a pair of his wife’s panties and her smallest dildo. Then I told him to get some lube. I had him put the panties on so that I could take pictures of him in them.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I came home to the scent of overcooked sugar and something suspiciously like chocolate melted on the stovetop. “Liam?” I called, dropping my keys with a clatter, already bracing myself. What I found in the kitchen stopped me mid-sigh. There was flour dusted on every surface like powdered snowfall, eggshells were floating in a bowl like tiny ceramic rafts, and my grown-up baby, wearing nothing but footed pajamas and a look of proud guilt, was standing knee-deep in spilled sprinkles.
He had clearly attempted to make Christmas cookies. It was a noble effort, really, but whatever recipe he used had devolved into what looked like a science experiment gone rogue. A lopsided dough monster clung to the counter, a measuring cup was stuck on his head like a helmet, and my (VERY EXPENSIVE) mixer lay on its side, still twitching with post-beating aftershocks.
*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221
Last week I told you about the naughty boy I’ve been seeing lately for CBT. He had been wearing a cage for me and I was so proud of how well he took care of it that I agreed to give him some relief by removing it, temporarily.
It had been on 24/7 for weeks with no cumming allowed so as I removed the device it was clear he was already getting hard. The anticipation of release looked to be overwhelming for him and I loved watching my naughty boy squirm all over my bed.
Valerie 1844-332-2639 Ext 243
Late last night, I was closing up the little local bar I work at. It was just the perverted cook, and I left in the building. I’d just closed the register and put all the chairs on the tables so I could mop when I felt him watching me.
Those little warning hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I tried to hurry up and get out of there as fast as I could without any problems, but when I went to the back to get my purse, he was standing in front of my locker. “You look so good tonight, Val.” He said while reaching down to adjust his pants.
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY ext 357
It’s that time of year again! Princess Kayla loves to make each and every birthday super memorable! Of course, I have no idea what’s in store for me this year as the special day approaches, but I wanted to share one of my favorite birthday memories.
It was my sweetest birthday—such a fantastic day for most girls. You finally feel like a real woman. Old enough to drive and smart enough to drive men wild. I was working at a small family dinner where regulars lined the counters nightly.
Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270
Every girl looks forward to her birthday. It’s a special day when everything is about her. She should be the center of the universe, and Kayla is no different. She was so excited about her party. We spent hours on details for the invitations, decorations, and party favors. She meticulously picked her party outfit and the catering that would wow her guests.
Everything was picture-perfect, until her little brother, Mr. Stinkypampers, did what babies do best. You guessed it! Kayla called me almost in tears, wailing, “Please, Stinkypants Detective, come quick. I know he is here, I can SMELL him, but I can’t find him! I need your nose!”
Continue reading “The Stinker That Ruined Kayla’s Birthday Party”
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
This is the story about the origin of Spanksgiving. The kitchen was thick with steam that smelled overwhelmingly of simmering basil and crushed tomatoes. Thanksgiving wasn’t complete without Mommy Anna’s infamous Neapolitan sugo, and Ronnie was slumped over the heavy cast iron pot.
“Don’t stop stirring, Ronnie,” Mommy Anna had warned. “We have company coming and this sugo cannot stick. Keep that heat low and that spoon moving!” I slipped into the kitchen hoping for a leftover cookie, but stopped in my tracks when I saw my brother. “Ronnie, you won’t believe it,” I whispered, leaning close to the stove.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I adore my boy. He’s the sweetest, most adorable ABDL munchkin you ever did see, all wrapped up in a crinkly diaper. But there’s just one tiny, rather small secret I’ve been keeping under wraps, quite literally. When my fellow Mamas would gather for their notorious “bragging brunches,” regaling us with tales of their boys’ magnificent, awe-inspiring, frankly colossal dick sizes (yes, we do compare), I’d just sip my mimosa and plaster on a smile.
“Oh, my Aiden’s a real handful,” Brenda would gush, “eight glorious inches, and thick as a soda can! Such a big boy!” Meanwhile, my own sweet boy was, well, more of a charming four. A secret that felt as heavy as a lead diaper, even though it was in reality so impossibly light (and small…oh, so very small!).